Ethereal
by Axel'sWaterBaby
Summary: When she was kidnapped, Anna didn't expect a rescue. She didn't expect to make friends. She definitely  wasn't expecting to find love either, but when has life ever been predictable? FemEngland! AU, Please R&R ;D
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia Axis Powers, because if I did, France would be naked a hell of a lot more than he currently is :D

* * *

Anna sighed, sipped her now cold cup of tea, and placed her knit-work on the table, choosing to look out the window instead of focusing on her crochet. The day was nice and fair, albeit a bit chilly and cloudy; just about a typical spring day in England. Just being in the country of which she loved could bring a smile to the Briton's face, but today it seemed as things were a bit... off.

Perhaps it was the way that the shadows danced on the walls, as if they were having a competition to see who could move the most frantic, or perhaps it was the black cat that Anna had been seeing around the house lately. Perhaps it was a combination of those things, all culminating it a disaster just waiting to happen. Somewhat of a calm before a storm.

But then again, Anna might just be superstitious. It was something that Berwald and Tino told her time and again, but she had been taught in the ways of magic since she was a lass. It was in her blood to be cautious of things others could not sense.

Speaking of Berwald and Tino, Anna wondered where her troublesome little brother was. He was supposed to be back home from their house an hour ago, and to think that he wasn't back yet made Anna somewhat nervous. She'd never tell Peter to his face, but Anna often worried about how the younger adjusted to life since their parents died, and she was glad that he had found comfort in Berwald and Tino. They were good people, but they definitely didn't deserve the horror that was raising a twelve year old boy. Some of the things that Peter did made Anna think that he was actually trying to kill her and–

"Oi, jerk! I'm home! What's for dinner? You didn't cook did you? If you did I already ate," Peter said quickly and loudly. His dulcet tones disturbed the quietness that had surrounded the house in Anna's loneliness.

Scowling, Anna turned around and glared at the little blond boy that had just entered _her_ house. "Ungrateful brat. I didn't cook anything, so you can eating your bleeding heart out."

"Then how'd you get the food, asshole?"

"Watch your bloody mouth!" Anna yelled, glaring at the young boy as he grabbed a couple biscuits. "Someone left a bag a pre-made food on the porch, I just assumed that it was Tino and Berwald."

Peter looked up at his sister questioningly, before taking a bite. The younger blond tried to speak, but Anna would have none of that. She didn't want her brother to be raised without any manners; he was going to be a well-distinguished Englishman and learn the appropriate times to speak.

"You know what they say happens when you assume, idiot? They say that you make an as–" Peter said in a sing-song voice, before being cut off by the sight of the vein in Anna's forehead throbbing.

The young woman took a deep breath, counted to ten, before glaring at her younger brother. "Don't be so uncouth! A proper gentleman knows that using such language is-" Anna's rant was cut short by the sound of a pain filled groan.

"Anna... I'm not feelings so well," Peter moaned faintly, his hands clutching his stomach. Rushing over to her younger brother, Anna raised her hand to the other's head, her fingertips feeling the beads of sweat.

"Pete, where does it hurt?" Anna whispered, her emerald eyes wide with worry. She'd never admit it, but she really did care for her brother, despite his apparent hatred towards her.

Peter moaned again before closing his eyes. "I-I don't think that those cookies were Tino's..." At this, Anna looked both confused and alarmed. If it wasn't Tino than who could it possibly be?

Suddenly, there was a large bang outside the door, causing both of the Kirklands to jump in surprise. They lived in the middle of a forest, and didn't have any close neighbors around, save for Tino and Berwald. And even then it took nearly half a day to travel between the houses. The closest town also happened to be a while a way as well, and while the townsfolk sometimes visited Anna for help, it was too late in the day for it to be anyone of them. Just as Anna was pondering this though, another large bang joined the first one.

Grabbing Peter, Anna dragged her younger brother to the chair in the sitting room. She gently set her brother on a chair, making sure to keep his head elevated and moved to answer the door. Whoever was out there clearly wasn't going to go away. Opening the latch, Anna was met with the sight of a tall, blond man.

"_Sind Sie Anna?_" The man asked, his blue eyes sweeping the room. At his side, Anna could see a finely decorated sword, dagger, and various knives, making her think that the man could possibly be a soldier of some kind. When he was satisfied with her surrounding area, the man looked Anna straight in the eyes, his eyes cold and somber. All in all, his appearance was intimidating, his foreign tongue making it even more so.

There weren't a lot of Germans in England.

"Um... I'm terribly sorry, but I don't speak German. If you're looking for the easiest way to get to town, then you just have to keep going west," Anna said, her voice tight. Whatever this man was up to, he could only bring trouble. Anyone with that much weaponry could only cause trouble, especially a German.

"_Das könnte schwierig sein__..._My name is Ludwig Beilschmidt. You are Anna Kirkland, ma'am?" Ludwig asked, his tone exasperated, but still firm. Clearly Ludwig was used to things being hard to accomplish, and was just setting himself up for another hard experience.

Anna tilted her head, eyes becoming focused as well. What could a foreigner want with her? "Yes, I am Anna Kirkland. May I inquire as to why you are seeking me out, Mr. Beilschmidt?"

"May I come inside, Miss Kirkland?"

"...Of course," Anna said keeping her face devoid of emotion. This man was giving her the chills, answering her questions with different questions... why couldn't he just give her a straight forward answer?

What was he hiding from her?

"Oi, Anna! Who the hell is this kraut?" Peter shouted, his eyes wide and angry. It seemed as if her brother was feeling better, especially if he was able to express his displeasure towards the Germanic people. To their guest's face. Like an improper barbarian.

"PETER! FOR THE LAST TIME, WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE, ESPECIALLY AROUND GUESTS!" Anna yelled, furious at her brother's behavior. Turning to apologize to Ludwig, Anna spoke. "I'm deeply sorry for my brother's behavior, Mr. Beilschm-_CRACK_!"

Crumpling to her knees, Anna stared around the now spinning room, her eyes watering with tears. As blackness started to encroach upon her vision, Anna heard a whispered apology. Then, everything ceased to be.

Starring horrified, Peter soon jumped to his knees. What did that stupid bastard think he was doing? He couldn't do anything like that to his sister, Peter was the only one who could terrorize her! And with that, Peter charged towards Ludwig, screaming in anguish and anger. As he reached the taller blond, Ludwig did nothing to stop his attack. In fact, he looked as he barely felt the fists that Peter threw at him.

Brushing the the Englishman away, Ludwig swept Anna into his arms. Stepping through the threshold of the door, Ludwig turned back to Peter and gave the other man a sorrowful look.

"_Es tut mir leid._"

"Wait! Where are you taking her? Why do you need her? Hey! HEY!" The German didn't refused to turn around again, leaving Peter alone.

As he left, Peter succumbed to his sadness, tears staining his face. He couldn't believe that his sister was taken away, to somewhere he didn't know, and he couldn't do anything to save her. He felt so useless... He needed to get her back. It wasn't like he actually hated his sister or anything, he actually did love her. Somewhat.

Standing up, Peter ran towards the window, hoping to see Anna outside laughing. He hoped that this was just a joke. What could a German possibly want with his sister? As long as he could remember, both of them had lived in the forest in relative peace. They didn't have any real contact with the land at large, except for a villager here or there.

Why was this happening?

Opening the door, Peter looked around to see if there were any footprints in the dirt. If there were, than maybe Peter could follow the man and get his sister back. Even though Ludwig had been able to shrug off all of Peter's attacks as though they were nothing, the young Briton was sure he could save her.

As if. If Peter was going to rescue Anna, he'd need help, preferably from some large and intimidating mercenaries. Straitening his shoulders, Peter turned towards the direction of the closest village. Perhaps someone from the local pub could help him locate Anna.

* * *

"Kesesesesesese! That was totally awesome, Toni!" Gilbert laughed, his blood red eyes crinkling in amusement. He always enjoyed the time when he and his friends were on leave from the military; they could act like the huge dumbasses that they were, and not get chewed out about it. Ordering another beer, Gilbert slung his arm around Antonio's shoulder.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Gil. I only complimented the waiter's eyes," Antonio said, his voice laced with confusion. Of course, the look in Antonio's eyes, a mix between amusement and mischief, showed he knew what he was doing. Anyone could tell that because of his comment, the whole lot of them were going to get free food and service, even Antonio.

"Ah _mon ami_, your youthful passion is so heartwarming," Francis said enthusiastically, his eyes on the waiter's well formed ass. He truly was happy for his friend, he was becoming a ladies man like himself.

Suddenly, a shadow was looming over the table, causing each of the trio's heads to turn in alarm. Hands heading for weapons were stilled however, when the person's identity was made apparent. Instead, groans were heard around the table.

"Hey guys, the hero has arrived!"

"_Bonjour_ Alfred~" Francis purred, his eyes still on the waiter. He had known Alfred for a long time, practically raised the other, slightly younger man, and had such grown used to the American's obscure personality. Sometimes his child-like excitement could be a wee bit taxing, but after working together for a few years, Francis had almost become completely immune to it.

"Yo Franny Gilbo, Toni. What's crack-a-lackin'?" Alfred asked his eyebrows rising while he pulling up a chair and taking a swig of his stash. The raw smell of crude alcohol made Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert's noses' crinkle. They liked their alcohol sure, but they enjoyed it being well made. "I thought I'd come see what my peeps were up to. How y'all doing? Y'all feel what I'm puttin' down?"

"_Scheiße-Kopf._"

"_Tu eres un muchacho muy estúpido._"

"_Dieu vous punira d'être si stupide._"

The three other warriors deadpanned before, smiling wildly at their Western friend. Alfred smiled back, not knowing what the other said, but since they were smiling, he knew it couldn't be that bad, right?

"Yah, I can feel that, bros," Alfred said, finishing his flask. Turning around to order another drink, the loudmouthed American missed the goofy faces that Gilbert made at his back. Some would call him oblivious, but he just believed that if he didn't see something, than it didn't happen.

And that was why he and Francis were such great friends.

The Frenchman watched his Prussian friend, all the while rolling his eyes and sipping his wine. Sometimes Gilbert could be a bit like Alfred, immature and silly, yet his confidence in his "awesomeness" always proved to be hilarious. Especially when coupled with a drunk Antonio, which by each passing second seemed more and more possible. Antonio might have charmed the waiter too much.

"HELP! PLEASE, PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME!" A voice cried, from right outside the pub. Soon, the door was flung open and unveiled the desperate form belonging to a young man. The boy's blue eyes were wild, and his hair messy and in a general disarray.

"Now, calm down, Pete-"

"Don't tell me to calm down! They took her, Anna, she's gone!" Peter cried, tears flowing down his face. The local citizens in the bar were in an uproar, most of the flogging towards Peter in the hope that he'd calm down. Francis looked at his friends, taking in the look of determination on Alfred's face, alarm on Antonio's, and maniacal glee on Gilbert's, in.

"Peter," The barmaid said, her eyes upset, but understanding. "What exactly happened to Anna? What do you mean she's gone?"

"Belle, she's gone! Taken away by a angry German! H-He hit her over the head and knocked her unconscious. I-I tried to stop him, but he was too strong. A-And... And..." Peter trailed off, his hands coming up to wipe away the tears from his eyes. The entire audience seemed to be as depressed as the blond child, save the four knights in the corner. Belle, the owner, hurried over to the boy before burst with overwhelming sadness. It seemed as if the child would never stop crying.

Francis clicked his tongue, it was horrible to think that a young and helpless maiden could be swept away so easily. A beautiful woman should be treated as such, not like a sack of potatoes that a disgruntled (because all Germans are disgruntled) German could haul around as he desired. Looking at Gilbert, Francis knew that the story had peaked his interest as well. Anything relating to the other man's culture had that effect.

Standing up, Francis moved over to the crying child. After winking at Belle, the Frenchman placed his hand comfortingly on the Briton's shoulder, effectively drawing the younger's attention. "Do not worry, _mon garçon._ My friends and I shall find your sister for you, and return her to your care. After all,_ une belle dame exige un beau sauveteur._"

"Are you sure you can save my sister, you frog?" Peter demanded, his eyes now dry but his anger lit. Anna had said to never trust the French; it pained Peter to think that he'd have to put his faith in someone his sister clearly despised.

"_Oui, évidemment, gosse_," Francis grumbled, his mind already picturing how thankful this Anna would be once he had rescued her.

"_¿Eres serio?_" Antonio asked, placing a hand on Francis' shoulder. The Spanish man's eyes were curious and amused, as if he was wondering how far Francis would go for a lay. Smiling back at his friend, Francis nodded and motioned for Alfred and Gilbert to come over.

"Well Peter, I think it best if you show us where to start. To your house?" Francis asked, looking down at the boy with a determined expression. Hesitantly, the blond returned the expression, and led the party out of the bar.

"Just follow the hero!" Alfred yelled, taking Peter's hand and leading him to the outskirts of the town, accidentally knocking into Gilbert and causing him to spill his beer. Squawking in horror, Gilbert's face glowed red in anger before he chased after the laughing American, shouting German obscenities. Chuckling, both Francis and Antonio followed after their friends.

And now, the journey had begun.

* * *

**A/N: **So this is my contribution to the growing FrUk section, only staring a genderbent!England. Which honestly, makes me a little happy (no fuzzy eyebrows, huzzah!). Translations are as follow:

_Sind Sie Anna - _You are Anna?

_Das könnte schwierig sein - _This could be difficult

_Es tut mir leid - _I'm sorry

_Scheiße-Kopf - _Shit-head

_Tu eres un muchacho muy estúpido - _You are a very stupid man

_Dieu vous punira d'être si stupide - _God will punish you for being so stupid

_une belle dame exige un beau sauveteur - _A beautiful girl demands a beautiful rescuer

_Oui, évidemment, gosse _- Yes, of course, rascal

_Eres serio _- Are you serious?

Besides the Spanish, all of the sentences in foreign languages are from a translator, so feel free to correct my grammar or vocabulary. Some of the phrases that I used I think are pretty common (especially if you read fanfiction) so I didn't translate them.

Thanks for reading and have a good day Space Cadets~~


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia, because if I did, England would never wear pants. Or a shirt. Or any other fabric that could somehow cover that bootylicious body.

…

Ahem.

* * *

"Eh? Why do you live so far from town, Peter?" Antonio asked, his eyes lit with confusion. The goofy smile and untidy hair only added to the utterly puzzled appearance, along with making Peter that much more unsure about Antonio's ability to find his sister. He needed people he could trust and an clueless Spaniard, French frog, German kraut, and noisy American didn't assuage Peters fears at all.

Scowling, Peter glared at the taller man. "After our parents died, Anna moved us out into the woods. She hated that town; but she hated how every single one of the townspeople treated us with pity even more. She claimed it was too stifling and that the faeries were unhappy there."

"...Faeries?"

"Yeah, can't you see them?" Peter asked, his eyes wide with childlike innocence. He didn't know anyone who couldn't see the faeries; Tino, Berwald, and Anna all assured him it was normal. At Antonio's regretful no, Peter clicked his tongue. The man had no idea what he wasn't missing out on; Peter couldn't imagine living without his fairy friends inviting him over for tea in their woodland houses, or frolicking with them through the fields of flowers.

"Anyway, we've lived out here for awhile, only going to town when we need supplies or otherwise. Most of the time the villagers come to us instead though."

"Oh?" Antonio asked, pacifying the boy. The brunet was pleased that the younger man had started to look much more calm and relaxed, instead of panicky and angry. He looked so much cuter this way~ "Why do the villagers come to you?"

Smiling, Peter looked up at the Spaniard, "Mostly they come seeking advice. They want to ask Anna to look into the future and predict how a decision will effect their life. That's what Anna converses with the faeries about, and the villagers pay a lot of money for the telling."

"_¿Qué?"_ Antonio yelled, his face scrunching in alarm. They were going to rescue a witch? A witch! Someone who could look into what was not meant for mere mortals to see! Looking at Francis, Antonio sighed when he saw the slightly older man ignoring both Peter and Antonio in favor of entertaining himself with his thoughts. If he knew that they were going to save _una bruja,_ then the blond would never have agreed, that was certain. Francis had an always been afraid of that which he did not know, much like Antonio, and because of his fear, he loathed magic creatures.

But, they needed to save Anna. Antonio knew that he should tell his friend immediately what was truly going on here, but he knew he could not. Peter needed his sister back, and the only way that would happen was if they rescued her. If Antonio told Francis, he knew that he would be alone on this journey, and it might be his life on the line, not Anna's.

"Peter, I need you to promise me that you won't tell anyone else about Anna's job. If you do, I'm not so sure that we'll be able to rescue her due to...extraneous circumstances. _¿Bien?" _Antonio asked, his green eyes piercing Peter's blue. The seriousness of the man's gaze almost made Peter take a step back, he could not believe that it was the same man.

Hesitatingly, Peter nodded. Maybe his sister was going to be alright after all, maybe everything would just return to normal. The thought alone made Peter smile - normalcy was something he needed now. Life was going to be-

"Ai, you're so cute when you smile Peter~"

Hell.

"Peter, do you always attack the men who are helping you?" Francis asked, his expression annoyed. The British really were barbaric, attacking even the most well-meaning man over something inconsequential. Antonio had just complimented the boy, and he attacked him? _Si brut!_

"Let go of me you pathetic excuse for a man! Put me down immediately!" Peter wailed, kicking his legs up and down. Francis tsked, but complied with the other's wishes; he didn't wish to be harmed, especially with no beautiful girls around to kiss it better!

Peter growled and stomped ahead, grabbing Gilbert's (the only person who hadn't proven that they were a total idiot, despite the fact that he was a _German)_ arm and began to pull him in the direction of his house. "Come on, my house is just a little while away. We can stay there for the night, and in the morning head off to find my sister."

Ignoring Alfred's shouts that he'd rescue Gilbert from the tyrant's grip (along with Gilbert's yells that no one needed to save his awesome self), Peter led the party to his residence. The sight alone made Francis chuckle, if only to see Gilbert flustered. The Prussian was always and endless source of amusement to Francis, ever since they were young. Gilbert's "awesomeness" was definitely rubbing off on him.

As he was about to catch up with the trio, Antonio grabbed his arm. Turning in question, Francis stopped when he saw Toni's rare serious look. "_Quel est votre problème, mon ami?_"

"Francis," Antonio began, his voice grave,"be careful. Things might be... a bit more difficult than you originally thought. Things aren't - won't be what they seem."

Staring back at the Spanish man, Francis reflected over how serious Toni was being. If it truly was that bad (the slightest bit of seriousness on the Antonio's face usually meant that things were severely wrong), than perhaps he should heed the other's warning. Nodding slightly, Francis marveled at how quickly Antonio's face changed from serious to utterly silly, as if his face had never sported anything other than a goofy grin.

Antonio threw an arm around the Frenchman's neck and started leading them to the rest of the group, all the while chattering about how cute Peter was and other such things. His job was done; he warned Francis, now it was just time to see what the other man did with his advice.

* * *

"Get up, you lazy French Frog! Are you so full with wine that you can't even move?"

Francis rolled around, flipped the quilt up, and scowled at the rambunctious boy who had the gall to wake him. Did he not know that Francis needed his beauty sleep - it was what kept him so popular with the ladies, along with his suave personality. Sticking his tongue out, the tired Frenchman resumed his peaceful slumber, ignoring the pout and irritated look that the young Briton wore.

"Franny, it's almost past ten, and we've got to move our asses," Gilbert called. "The kid says that we need to cover a lot of land today if we're gonna rescue that chick."

Oh yes, that was right. The lovely Anna, the very woman whose bed he was sleeping in, was in terrible mortal danger, and needed to be rescued by her _chevalier dans l'armure brillante_! Getting up, Francis slowly made his way over to his clothing and began to dress himself. He needed to look his best to save the damsel, _non_?

Soon after he was done, Francis was greeted with the always pleasant sight of Gilbert standing over Alfred's bloody body. Unfortunately, this wasn't an uncommon sight to the Frenchman. "Did Al do something to piss you off more than usual, Gil?"

"_Nein_, I just got bored waiting for you," Gilbert grinned, reaching an arm out to the boy beneath him. In the corner Francis could see Antonio ruffling Peter's hair while the young Englishman looked less than jovial at the Spaniard's enthusiasm. "Now that you're awake, we can finally get this show on the road."

Shooting the Prussian an apologetic smile, Francis started to hush the eclectic group out of the Kirkland residence (ignoring Peter's angry calls that it was his house, and he could no possibly be kicked out of it), and into the forest. Looking at the small blond child, Francis waited for the other to take the initiative.

"Why are you staring at me, frog?"

"Do you not know the direction that your sister was carried off in?"

"O-Of course I don't! If I knew that, I wouldn't need your help - I'd go after her myself!"

"_Vous gosse impossible!_" Francis said scathingly, his face the picture of annoyed. "How do you expect us to find your sister without a clue as to where she is?"

Peter looked wounded, like a little dog who had just been beaten by their master, and his lower lip began to quiver. Sighing, Francis covered his face with his hands; he didn't want to make the kid cry, just tell him how hard this journey was going to be. It wasn't his fault that he just couldn't converse with rude, little, English _rosbifs_; Francis could handle anyone who wasn't so uppity and utterly British.

"Hey dude, I know this might sound weird, but do you have anybody that you can stay with until this whole thing is resolved? It doesn't feel right to have you come with us or, like, live by yourself," Alfred awkwardly asked, shifting from side to side.

The action made Francis smile, it was something that Alfred had done while he was younger, and it seemed that he hadn't grown out of it. He was also quite proud of the younger man; he was truly growing out of his selfish nature and caring about others. It was actually... enthralling.

"I-I can stay with my friends, Tino and Berwald. They live about a half a days walk that way," Peter said, pointing in an inane direction, "and maybe... maybe they saw Anna yesterday too! I didn't think about going to see them before..." Peter trailed off looking even more downtrodden than before.

That little boy really knew how to make others sympathize with him, Francis would give him that. Antonio looked as if he was about to jump the boy at any moment, with Alfred's help of course, and bombard Peter with hugs and huge crocodile tears. Gilbert, who usually looked as if he couldn't care less, had misty eyes, quite possibly because Peter reminded him of his own little brother, or at least that was Francis' speculation. Himself? Well, he was sad for the boy, but he still had Anna's safety in the forefront of his mind. A lady, albeit an English one, was in perilous danger; she took priority in Francis' mind.

If the German man really did take Anna away, than they could be anywhere. The Germans were meticulous about their plans, and Francis had no doubt that any plan that the man had was already executed perfectly. So, with no other option, Francis clapped Peter on the shoulder, and motioned for the boy to lead the way to his friend's cottage.

They were in God's hands now.

* * *

Anna awoke with a killer headache, which although unwelcome wasn't unfathomable, and her face plastered to the cool stone floor. Either she had a very fun night drinking, or something was terrible wrong, and she put her faith in the latter. She didn't reek of alcohol or cigarettes, and nothing about the room was familiar, as it was completely different from any of the decor in the nearby town.

Slowly standing up, Anna placed one hand on her head and another of the wall. The room that she was in was small, perhaps two thirds the size of her bedroom, and clearly elevated. From the window she could see the tops of trees, and the sunlight was freely streaming into the room. Wait, sunlight?

With a renewed vigor, Anna launched herself towards the window, desperately searching the sky for any indication of the time. Before she blanked out, she knew it couldn't have been this early in the morning, or morning at all. The last things she remembered was...

Peter! Ludwig!

If she ever got her hands on that dirty bastard, she'd teach him not to mess with the Kirklands! How dare he come and terrorize her brother, and then kidnap her as if she was some possession to be claimed or owned! She was Anna Kirkland, she was no mere trinket to be gathered, she was a lady, prim and proper.

Fuming, Anna grabbed the nearest item and threw it at the wall, imagining that she was actually aiming it at the bastard's face instead. "God damn that uncultured twat! I swear that I'm going to tear him limb from limb the next time I see that Lederhosen arsehole!"

"Heh, nice shot."

Turning around in alarm, Anna snarled at the young man who had just entered the room. The man was young, perhaps two or three years younger than Anna was, with hazel eyes, reddish brown hair with a fly-away piece. The serious expression and frown were the only things marring the man's lovely appearance. With him, the man had a plate of delicious looking (compared to her cooking anyway) food that made Anna's mouth water.

"Who are you?" Anna asked briskly, her eyes narrowing with caution. If the man was also here, that meant one of two things, he was on that potato bastard's side, or he too was a victim.

The man smirked, and placed a tray of food on the table in the corner of Anna's room, taking his sweet time in doing so. "My name's Lovino Vargas Miss Kirkland, or may I call you Anna?" Lovino gestured to the food, and began to speak again. "I'd suggest you eat up, the potato bastard tells me you haven't eaten in awhile, such a horrible fate for a beautiful girl like yourself."

Glaring, Anna threw the next closest thing (after the item she threw at the Ludwig-Wall), making Lovino cringe and cry out. "Chigi! Watch where you throw those things, goddammit you're gonna kill me! _Male cagna!_"

"Y-You're Italian?"

"No, I'm a motherfucking Russian, _naturalmente io sono italiano_!" Lovino snarled, hiding underneath the table.

"Then why, may I ask," Anna drawled, moving her way over to the now cowering Italian, "are you assisting a German man in kidnapping a English lady?" For some reason, most likely because of Lovino's weak behavior, Anna felt more at home than before. She wasn't threatened now, she _was_ the threat.

Lovino, after sensing that Anna was finished heaving breakable and harmful objects, stood up and snorted. Anna was pleased to see that there wasn't much of a height difference between herself and her captor; escape was that much easier. "I'm helping that jerk ass because he's dating my _fratellino_, I don't have much of a choice. It's not like I'd willingly help such a tool!"

Smiling to herself, Anna reflected over how similar the two of them were. "Perhaps you'd be inclined to help me escape then, Lovino?"

"Normally, I'd do anything to help such a beautiful lady of your caliber, Miss Kirkland," Lovino began, smiling at the use of his proper name. "But I can't make my brother upset, if that happens, he won't stop crying. I'd hate to leave him in the arms of that potato bastard as well." Lovino shrugged, a helpless, but determined expression on his face. Taking a seat at the table, Lovino gestured for Anna to join him.

"No... I understand, I have a little brother myself. If anything was to happen to him, I'd beat whoever hurt him to oblivion," Anna said, coming up to sit beside Lovino. "And please, call me Anna. For some reason, I think we're going to see quite a bit of each other now." Grabbing the fork, Anna began to devour the food given to her by angry Italian. Her eyes widened with joy when she felt a cornucopia of tastes assault her senses.

Chuckling, both at Anna's expression and in bitterness, Lovino smiled. "You and me both Anna, you and me both."

* * *

**A/N:** So this is chapter two, where more character development happens, and no real plot! Am I the only one who can clearly see both England and Romano being BFFs since Spain and France are? I think they'd stick together out of necessity, if not because they're so similar. Tsundere for the win! (I don't have a creepy pretty boy fetish, I don't! *shifts eyes in denial*)

Translations:

_Si brut! - _so raw, unrefined!

_Quel est votre problème, mon ami - _What is your problem, my friend?

_chevalier dans l'armure brillante - _Knight in shining armour

_Vous gosse impossible - _You impossible rascal!

_Male cagna - _Evil Bitch

_naturalmente io sono italiano - _Of course I'm Italian!

Still using an online translator, and probably still sucking (but hopefully it's not too bad). Feel free to correct the grammar or anything, and such. Some phrases, (like _bien, nein_, or otherwise) I didn't translate. If you need them, I'll add them in later at the end. Thanks for reading, and whether you liked it or not, please leave a review. Feedback = Me not writing chapters at... 1:09 in the morning. Huzzah.

Good day Space Cadets! I SAID GOOD DAY!~


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia Axis Powers. If I did, than the whole series would focus on Poland so much more. Behold the mighty power of the Poles!

(Like, totally~)

* * *

"Oi, stop being such a bloody twat, and just pass me another one," Anna slurred, draping an arm around the equally intoxicated Italian. The two drunks were swaying slightly, their eyes' were bloodshot and glassy, yet everything else appeared to be normal. In response to her question, Lovino just took another swig from his bottle of wine.

The sun was nearly setting behind her, but Anna couldn't bring herself to care; she knew she was completely pissed, completely and utterly sloshed. She had just finished her dinner awhile ago and Lovino, being Italian, had a bottle or two of wine on him which the pair had preceded to drink.

Vaguely, Anna tried to recall the last time she went drinking and _wasn't_ groped by a man's wandering hands. It was a nice feeling.

The young Italian groaned and tried to shake off the Englishwoman's arm, but his attempts were in vain. Even on his best (and sober) days, he couldn't seriously harm or do anything to intentionally anger a woman. Damn chivalry. "I think you...us...we, we've had enough. Maybe. Dammit I can't think anymore– isn't that a bad sign?"

"Only if you plan on stopping," Anna grumbled, reaching for the bottle. Putting the bottle to her lips, she took a long chug before exhaling contently. "If you don't, then it means nothing."

"Leave it to the English to be alcoholic."

"Leave it to the Italians to be quitters."

Lovino snorted, before taking the bottle defiantly away from the smirking Briton and taking a drink. As he finished Lovino's body started to profoundly sway, almost enough to knock Anna off kilter. For a second Anna wondered how much alcohol Lovino had; she was sure that she had more and yet, he was the one acting as if he was a new to this wine.

"Whatcha thinkin' bout?" Lovino asked, his words even harder to distinguish. His cheeks were bright red at this point, and Anna was reminded of Peter's face after a particularly harsh snowstorm a few years ago.

Smiling at the thought, Anna cocked her head at the Italian and regards him slowly. Now that she thinks about it, Lovino is somewhat like an older version of Peter, bratty personality and all. Even the childish and annoyed pout on the Italian's face was so similar to her brother's normal demeanor, that Anna thought she was looking into a older, brunet version of her stupid git of a brother.

It takes a moment, but Anna remembers (probably between the throat clearing, and pointed looks that Lovino is doing) that the young man is still waiting for her answer. To a question. Some sort of question. "Um, I'm terribly sorry, but could you repeat yourself, love?"

"I asked whatchu were thinkin' bout, crazy bitch."

"Oh, just how much you act like my brother," Anna replies, eyes lighting up when the Italian produced yet another wine bottle from seemingly nowhere. "Just how do you do that?"

"Do what?" Lovino asks, his eyebrows furrowing cutely. "Oh, you mean the bottles? What do you think, I _am_ a goddamn Italian." Clumsily, the 'goddamn Italian' uncorked the bottle, a little bit of the alcoholic drink dribbling down the side. Anna's eyes, naturally, were automatically drawn to that lone drop.

She was so mesmerized, that Anna didn't even register that Lovino was speaking. That is, until the man snapped his fingers in front of her face, obscuring her view of the drink. Sheepishly, she turned to her disgruntled companion and questioningly tilted her head.

"I said, you _cagna alcoliche_," Lovino began, "that I highly doubt that your brother could be quite as amazing as I am."

The petulant pout on the Italian's face was almost enough to send Anna into a fit of laughter. Something about seeing that expression– a favorite of Peter's– on his face was just hilarious to her. "Amazing wouldn't be the word I would use, mate. More like annoyingly childish."

"I'm not _childish._ That title belongs to Feliciano, he's the one who acts like he doesn't a have a brain half...most...all of the time! He seriously acts like he's either mentally disabled, or stupid, or seven years old! Who does that? What healthy adult acts like an idiot?" Lovino whined.

Rolling her eyes, Anna wondered if he was being serious or just facetious. She hadn't known Lovino long enough to know what he truly thought of his brother, so she couldn't know for certain which one was correct. But, the irony of his statement was more than enough to make her giggle. As her chuckles grew in volume, Lovino's glare grew in intensity. As did the amount of alcohol that Anna consumed.

Finally, Lovino had enough. "Chigi! It's not funny, he really is too stupid to function. The only good thing about him is that he drives that Potato Bastard crazy too. It's actually hilarious to watch the two of them together, just not when their being _so freaking charming_. I don't know how Kiku can stand to be around them and not throw up, especially since he hates being touched."

"Kiku?"

"Yeah, he's some Asian friend of Feli's, he's always around when Feli's being particularly stupid. Besides that German asshole, he's the only other one who can handle my brother's stupidity without committing suicide..." Lovino trailed off.

Kiku... Anna rolled the name around in her head, contemplating when she'd heard it before. It definitely seemed familiar, like the name of a relative or friend that she hadn't seen or heard from in years. For all she knew, it could be. Anna didn't remember much from of her childhood, or really any time before her parents died.

Desperate to clear her head (or maybe muddle it more), Anna took another swig of wine. The English woman idly wondered how intoxicated she'd get by the end of tonight.

"Oi, you okay? You got all quiet again," Lovino slurred tiredly.

Anna looked up, took Lovino's glossy eyes into account, and wryly smiled back. "Yeah, I'm fine. Except for the fact that I'm stuck in this tower, I don't know about what's happened to Peter, and my foreseeable future is unknown, I'm perfectly peachy keen."

"I know it's not much, but you shouldn't worry too much about your brother," Lovino stated, his eyes becoming serious. "Ludwig might be an asshole, Feliciano might be a bimbo, Kiku might be unsure and hesitant, but they'd never intentionality hurt an innocent person. Take yourself for example, you were "painlessly" knocked out when it could have been much, much worse. Your brother should be fine, you know, barring the fact that he's not a dumbass or anything."

Blinking owlishly, Anna stared at the Italian. She was deeply swayed by the true blue concern that someone, who was practically a stranger, had for her. It was a refreshing change from profound annoyance or barely tolerated loathing, as Peter was apt to displaying; it was even a nice difference from the mirthful demeanor of Tino or Berwald's lack of any visible expression.

"For an Italian," Anna said, her voice light and slightly sarcastic, "you don't seem like a womanizing, spaghetti-eating, mobster."

"And _per una donna inglese,_" Lovino smirked. "you don't seem like a snobby, tea-loving, bitch."

Feigning hurt, Anna place one hand over her chest, right near her heart. "You wouldn't know how wrong you are about the last one. I love a good cup of tea, almost as much as I love a good bottle of whiskey. Which sadly, this drink isn't."

"And you're wrong about the spaghetti part," Lovino chuckled, his standing up. "I enjoy eating tomatoes much more than pasta."

The two of them continued to banter lightly for awhile, having fun poking the other's (rather large) ego, until a loud, overbearing, and obnoxious knock broke the atmosphere. Muttering, Anna rose and made her way over to the door, opening it. What she saw, was enough to make her glare and scowl.

"Frau Kirkland," Ludwig politely said, bowing his head. The German side-stepped Anna's glare, completely ignoring the woman in favor of glancing around and noting the empty wine bottles. Frowning, Ludwig addressed the Italian. "Lovino, your brother needs your help making dinner. If you're indisposed, I can have Kiku help..."

The Italian scowled, and grabbed the the leftover alcohol, chugging all that remained in the bottle. "Don't bother, bastard. Just lookin' at you is makin' me sober."

Ludwig's eye started to twitch, but he exited the room without wasting another glance around. Anna shut the door angrily, not quite believing the arrogance that the German possessed. Huffing, she turned around and spotted the brunet collecting the miscellaneous items that he had brought with him. Sighing, Lovino shrugged at Anna and started to make his way to the door. To stop him, Anna stepped in front of the visibly irritated man.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Lovino," Anna said pleasantly, forgetting the beastly feeling she had when she saw the German enter the room, and extended her hand to shake. Lovino copied her movements, smiled and firmly shook her hand. After disengaging, Lovino made a beeline to the door, his steps short and quick.

"The pleasure was all mine, Anna," Lovino quipped, his hand on the doorknob and his back facing Anna. "I hope you enjoy your stay in Hell."

* * *

"Are we there yet~?" Alfred whined. Francis had to refrain from hitting the American; this was the umpteenth time that the boy had asked that question, and he knew that everyone else was almost as tired of it as he was. In fact, Gilbert had taken to referring to every time Alfred opened his mouth as 'unawesome'.

Francis shook his head, and looked at Peter. "Well, are we close?"

Peter, who had been perched upon Antonio's shoulders (and the Spaniard looked way to happy at this; if Francis didn't know his friend any better...), just the Frenchman a dirty look. "Almost, Berwald's house is just over those hills over there. You hear that, you American twat?"

"Of course," Alfred said, rolling his eyes, "A hero always pays attention to the words of his sidekicks."

After smothering his frustrated sigh, Francis rushed to stop Gilbert from attacking the other blond. Francis disliked being addressed as a 'sidekick', but he was used to Alfred's quirks, especially after living with the boy for so long. The Prussian on the other hand... well, he took any slight suggestion that he wasn't awesome as a horrible offence.

In fact, if Alfred wasn't so terribly oblivious, he might have noticed the blood-hungry Gilbert clawing towards him.

"Let go Franny," Gilbert shouted. "I'm going to slice his head off and feed it to my awesome bird, and maybe then he'll realize how awesome I am!"

Antonio chuckled, remembering the last time Alfred had something that annoyed his Prussian friend to this extent. But, of course, that time there had been a few beers involved, and Gilbert had forgiven the blond boy because he'd been sloshed. The Spanish man knew that Gilbert had a short fuse, but an even smaller tolerance for grudges.

Readjusting Peter, Antonio tapped on the American's shoulder. He was met by the blinding smile that Alfred loved to show off. "Ai, _Amigo_. I think you need to apologize to Gilbo– a _héroe_ never hurts his friend's feelings, right?"

Alfred stared at Antonio, taking in the Spaniard's cheery smile, before nodding and rushing over to Gilbert. When he reached the albino, the American winked and started talking too quickly for anyone (including Gilbert) to understand. The only thing that Francis could gather, and he was usually an expert when it came to interpreting what Alfred was saying, was that the bespectacled man had an apologetic tone.

Gilbert stared into Alfred's eyes, as if he was looking at his soul. Alfred shifted uncomfortably, but relaxed once he saw a lazy smirk appear on the other's face.

"It's not your fault that you can't comprehend my awesomeness; it just means you're not awesome enough."

And with that, Gilbert turned back around, slung an arm around Antonio (consequently knocking Peter off the other's shoulders) and preceded to speak with his Spanish friend. From his spot on the grass, Peter saw Alfred smirk before jogging up to the pair. Peter could vaguely hear him saying something about a drinking contest, but he was too angry to really think about it.

"Don't get too mad at him," Peter turned around to see an amused Francis looking at the trio fondly. "Gilbert tends to get a bit defensive."

"Defensive? How about deranged!" Peter challenged, watching the Frenchman chuckle in response.

"Gilbert is no more insane than the rest of us. He just has an exceptional way to see things," Francis said lightly. Peter snorted, from what he had seen all of the men had to possess some sort of mental disease. There was no way that they were normal, especially the Frenchman or the German kraut! "But that is a topic for another time. Perhaps you could tell me a bit more about your friends, _mon garçon_?"

Tilting his head, Peter felt a smile appear on his lips. That always happened when he thought of Tino and Berwald. "They're the nicest, kindest people I know. Even if Berwald is a bit scary and Tino's a bit talkative... and their food is somewhat weird."

"Isn't all English food weird? You should be used to be by now, _non_?" Francis smirked, a hand running through his hair.

Peter glared viciously before shoving the elder blond, cackling over the indignant squawk that followed. "Shut up, jerk! Berwald and Tino aren't even English, they're Swedish and Finnish! And even if they're food sucks, they're still one hundred percent better people than you!"

Stomping and grumbling under his breath, Peter left the Frenchman to his thoughts. Peter seemed to be awfully attached to the Nordic couple, despite the fact that he lived with his (_magnifique, déesse d'une femme_) sister. It was even more peculiar that the young Englishman referred to this couple, and he knew they were a couple, with a nicer demeanor than he had ever spoken of Anna.

There was more to the Kirkland family than met the eye.

And with that thought, Francis shorten his stride and began to catch up with the rest of his friends. Soon, he crossed over the hills, and found himself in front of a nice, cosy house. The Frenchman watched as Peter skipped (was this really the boy who was acting so rudely mere minutes ago?) to the front door and knocked.

"Alright, all of you stand behind me, Berwald tends to get a bit... suspicious of new people," Peter said flippantly, as if he really didn't care what happened to the men. Francis rolled his eyes, but otherwise complied with the rather bossy English boy. Following his lead, the rest of the merry men retreated as well, some mumbling about how "awesomeness wasn't afraid of anything".

After a few moments, the barrier was opened, and Francis saw what could possibly be the scariest image he had ever seen. There stood a tall, muscular, bespectacled, blond man, with a stare so intimidating, that Francis swore he felt the temperature drop.

"S'ere 'om'ing you nee', Pet'r? Who's a'l the's pe'ple?"

Jumping in alarm and the deep voice, Francis was amazed by how Peter's face transformed into an expression of pure adoration. In fact, it was quite creepy how happy the Briton seemed; it was the happiest Francis had seen the boy in the small amount of time they'd known each other.

"Berwald," Peter cried, launching himself to the taller man. "You need to listen to me! You won't believe what happened, probably because it's really scary and weird and stupid and completely idiotic!"

To his credit, Berwald didn't blink as the now hyperactive teen latched himself to his arm and calmly started walking into his delightful home, nodding his head and the other men to come inside. Squaring his shoulders, Francis did just that, not looking back to see if his friends followed him (which they did).

"T'no," Berwald called. Faintly, Francis wondered how much less intimidating Berwald would be if his speech was understandable. Looking around, Francis could see the quaint atmosphere surrounding the house; it seemed like Swede's partner was quite knowledgeable about the art of decor.

Or, perhaps beneath the roughness there lied a man with good taste.

"In the kitchen, Su-san," A voice replied, brimming with cheer.

Grunting, Berwald adjusted Peter so that the small boy was now perched atop his shoulders. He then effortlessly entered the kitchen, ignoring Peter's hair tugging and the Alfred's enthused whispers about how Berwald was hero material. Sometimes, Alfred made really immature remarks– other times they were just _complètement inutile_.

The shift that the Swedish man made proved pointless, since as soon as Peter was in the same vicinity as Tino, the small Briton launched off of Berwald and tackled the slighter man to the floor. Francis' eyes widened in horror; what if Peter had seriously hurt the other man? In shock, Francis looked at the tall Scandinavian.

He looked completely nonplussed. Francis didn't know which was more concerning, Berwald's reaction, or the yells of "Awesome one!" coming from behind him.

"_Kultaseni, _I'm happy to see you too, but could you get off? I'm sure your scaring your friends," Tino said breathlessly, his chest expanding and contracting violently. Peter looked unhappy at the idea of leaving, but detached himself out of necessity.

As he helped the panting Finnish man, Peter shot a glare over at Francis, Antonio, Gilbert, and Alfred, one which Francis readily returned. "They're not my friends Tino, they're just jerks who are going to rescue Anna!"

"Rescue?" Tino and Berwald asked (well Tino asked, Berwald just blinked at stared fiercely at Peter), worry evident in their expressions. "What the hell happened to Anna?"

Francis patronizingly patted Peter's head, before speaking. "_C'est horrible_! Apparently, the beautiful maiden known as Anna was kidnapped by a brutish German man– sorry Gilbert– and taken away to a mysterious location. My friends and I have taken on the task of finding her."

"Yeah, we're gonna be totally awesome, kay?" Alfred said, carelessly swinging an arm around Berwald's shoulder. The taller, blonder man looked as if he wanted to rip the American off of him, the only thing holding him back was the Tino's calming gaze.

Francis' thoughts took on a less kid-friendly tone as he regarded the Finnish man. Tino seemed to be a very chipper and cute young man, one who Francis would not feel shameful about teaching how to love and cherish with his entire heart. All night long.

Berwald glared at the French man, who, was not even concealing his thoughts. "'M sor'ry, but we 'aven't int'oduc'd ourselv's. M' name's Berwald Oxenstierna. Th's is m' w'fe, Tino Väinämöinen." To accentuate his point, the Swede shook Alfred's arm off and drew Tino into a hug.

Francis smiled sheepishly, or as sheepishly as he could, and wrapped his arms around Antonio's shoulders. That ship had sailed then.

"Su-san, can you let me go? And stop telling people I'm your wife, it's...awkward," Tino trailed off, staring embarrassingly at the smirking Francis and Gilbert, obliviously smiling Antonio, and arguing Alfred and Peter. Apparently Alfred had insulted Peter's love of tea, and the Englishman was taking revenge in the form of yelling. "Please, won't you all come inside and rest? Anyone willing to help Anni is welcome here."

Traveling to the sitting room, Francis was yet again surprised with the cheery decor. It seemed out of place in the duo's residence. "Excuse me Tino, but did you decorate?"

"Me? Oh no, Su-san is the one with the taste in furniture," Finland said, smile in place. "Now if you don't mind me asking, just what are your names?"

Francis frowned, upset that he had forgotten one of the most basic things about meeting new people. Peter looked at him with laughter in his eyes; his sister was right, the French really did have no manners. "Oh _pardonnez-moi_, I'm Francis Bonnefoy. The awesome albino is Gilbert Beilschmidt, the loud blond is Alfred F. Jones, and the lively brunet is Antonio Carriedo."

"Oi Francis, it's Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. You need to get it right, say it with more passion~," Antonio sang, his eyes sparkling. After shaking his head, Francis turned back to the Finnish man.

All he saw, was Tino shaking his head and mumbling something about how Mathias would love all of them. Maybe being so close to Peter had pretty much made Tino go insane; it was entirely possible based solely on the small amount of time that Francis had spent with the ill-tempered Briton. And how terrible were those times...

"Ah Tino, what we really came here for is just to drop Peter off. If we are seriously going to pursue Anna, then we'll need to work quickly and a child would just slow us down," Francis stated, ignoring the indignant yells and curses that Peter was tossing at him. Well, it's not like those persisted for long, since after one glare from Berwald, Peter obediently back down and pouted. Francis looked at the display in disbelief; he thought that the blond boy would not listen to anybody. He certainly hadn't listened to anyone in their group.

"Okay, that's totally unawesome," Gilbert said bitterly. "Why didn't the _wenig Scheiße _listen to us? We're are, well I am, awesome!"

Looking thoughtful for a second, Tino cocked his head. After convincing Peter to go check on the food, he looked at the mixed group of men with a guarded expression. "I guess it's because I've known Peter since he was a little kid, even back before his parents died. I know, or knew, all the Kirklands, Anni is just the only one around our age."

"Hey man, why do you keep calling her Anni?" Alfred asked, his eyebrow hitched. "I thought her name was Banana or something."

"_Olet väärässä__,_ it's just a nickname. I've referred to _Anna_ as Anni for as long as we've known each other; it's the Finnish equivalent of Anna."

Francis briefly wondered if Tino had an expression other than amused or happy, but judging from the wide grin on his face, Francis doubted that was true. If Tino was so close to Anna, shouldn't he be worried about her safety right now, not out her giggling with them? Shouldn't they be out there, valiantly trying to save the damsel in distress?

"Calm down, Franny. I can see your stress marks from here and it's totally unawesome," Gilbert teased, his eyebrows waggling. "Just think of this time as preparing and shit."

"_Oui_, _oui _whatever you say, Gilbo. Tino, what do you mean you knew all the Kirklands? Are there more than Peter and Anna?" Francis inquired.

Tino's smile slipped from his face for a moment, and he checked to see whether or not Peter had come back yet. The action itself just made Francis want to hear the response even more. Even from the brief amount of time that they had known each other, Francis knew that Tino wasn't one to make suspicious moves. After locking eyes with Berwald, the Finnish man took a deep breath.

"Anni and Peter have three older brothers: Eadan, Liam, and Callum, but they haven't been around in a long time. Those three had skipped town long before their parent's death, and even after it, they didn't return. I guess they just didn't care enough about what happened to their family. They're the reason why Anni was the one who needed to raise Peter too, even though she's only a few years older than him."

"Even if Anni would disagree, I think Peter turned out to be a nice man– somewhat like Su-san," Tino joked, laughing slightly when Berwald turned and glared at him. Still despite his statement, the Finnish man still seemed unusually quiet and somber.

Francis sat quietly, thinking about the woman he was to rescue. She seemed like such a complex woman, someone who had dealt with the hand that life had dealt her, but not without bitching about it. It that regard, she truly was a proper English woman. As he thought, Francis was unaware of how his hand was curling until one of his perfectly manicured nails broke the skin of his palm. Silently, Francis made a vow. As long as he still had blood running from his veins, he'd find and protect Anna, the woman who needed to grow up too quickly.

* * *

**A/N:**HEY. HEY. HEY YOU.

I'm not dead, I'm just talking my sweet-ass pimp time. Anyways, I'm actually a little behind where I wanted to be in this story, even though this chapter is also slightly longer than I wanted. :'[. Hopefully I can get back on track next chapter, and introduce another genderbent character (hint hint)!

_Translations:_

___per una donna inglese - for an English woman_

_____magnifique, déesse d'une femme - magnificent, goddess of a woman_

_______complètement inutile - completely useless_

_________Kultaseni - sweetheart_

_________Olet väärässä - you're wrong  
_

___________wenig Scheiße - little shit_

If needed, I can translate what Berwald said... but I hope you can follow that... Good day and good night Space-Cadets. I hope you find a drunk!Lovi in your closet soon ;D

Oh, and please Review! It's sorta weird when you have three times as many alerts than reviews...


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia, because if I did, Korea would reference StarCraft in every other sentence. Y'know, in between prattling on about his "Korean Spirit" and grabbing Japan/China's boobs. Mmhm.

GLHF Let's go~

* * *

Francis didn't know how long he had been outside before he heard the tell-tale sounds of his friends' footsteps. The only thing that he could be bothered with was the thought that he needed to, had to reach Anna as soon as possible. To Francis, failure wasn't an option.

He didn't want to regret not having done something later.

The cold and lateness of the hour didn't penetrate the Frenchman's mind until well after his body was being racked by shivers and his eyes were being blurred by unshed tears. He didn't know what time it had been when he left Berwald and Tino's home, and he was unaware as to how far he had traveled, but the long trek from earlier had begun to catch up with him. He couldn't help but hope his friends would catch up with him soon.

It wasn't long until Francis heard the footsteps cease, and instead, was treated to the sounds of Alfred and Gilbert complaining. Suddenly, he found a coat being draped around his shoulders, and a lopsided, but worried, grin in front of him.

"Ai, _amigo_, don't scare us like that," Antonio said, adjusting the coat so that it fit snugly against Francis' body.

Gilbert chose that moment to end his childish whining, and turn to his blond friend. "Yeah, it was totally unawesome, like you were possessed or something, Franny." He clapped his friend on his back, before tucking his hands into his pockets.

Francis turned to his American friend, waiting for him to comment. What he saw, was Alfred's seldom seen serious face, the blond's blue eyes lost their twinkle and his face pulled into a small frown. The last time Francis saw that look was when Mathew had moved away.

Turning away, the Frenchman brought the coat closer to his body and rubbed his hands together. He couldn't look at Alfred, he couldn't look at his friends' concerned expressions. If he did, he knew his conviction to help Anna would waver.

"Francis," Alfred said softly, "Come back to Tino's house. There's nothing we can do this late at night, not with all of us freezing to death."

If he dared to look around, the Parisian knew he'd see all of his friends staring at him, pleading for him to give in. That's why he chose to stare at his hands, looking over the blisters and callouses that the years of sword training had inflicted. Almost subconsciously, his hands flew to the hilt of his sword, a present from his late father. His father had given him that sword when he had just been a squire, he gave it to Francis in the hopes that his son would follow his dream.

His dream of protecting those who couldn't protect themselves.

"I'm not asking you to follow me," Francis began lowly, "In fact, I think it would be better if you went back. But I'm not, I have to keep going. _Je dois continuer_."

With that, Francis resumed his journey. He wasn't sure he was going the right way, hell, because of the darkness, he wasn't even sure where he was, but that wouldn't stop him. At this point, he was sure that nothing probably would.

That was, until the Frenchman felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around, Francis unsheathed his sword only to see Gilbert. The albino looked oddly indifferent, usually Gilbert wore his emotions on his face, open for the world to see. It was one of the things that Francis liked most about his Prussian friend, but seeing this mask was just... disorienting.

The albino removed his hand from his friend's shoulder, and hastily thrust it into his pocket. "Don't be such a dumbass, Franny. I'm pretty sure it's gotten to the point where you can just assume we got your back; that's just what awesome friends do."

"And we're the awesomest." Alfred chirped in.

Looking at the boy, it was clear that his face was gaining back some of it's childish zeal. Distress was still hiding behind the American's eyes, but it wasn't as prevalent as before, and that, more than anything, eased Francis' mind.

"So, which way are we going?" Antonio asked, his goofy smile almost illuminating a path.

Francis looked at his friends, taking in their determined, albeit stupid, expressions. They were all so earnest, that it was almost nauseating, but the Parisian knew he wouldn't want it any other way. They were all his idiots. Stepping up, Francis took point in front of his friends, leading them to what he hoped was the place where the fair maiden Anna was hidden.

"Well isn't this touching,_ да_?"

* * *

There were some people that, when they were born, everyone knew they were truly evil. That voice belonged to one such person.

Instantly, the quartet turned towards the voice, squinting to see who was there. Francis shuddered and blinked, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of pale blonde hair, paler that his or Alfred's could ever be. This wasn't good, this wasn't good at all.

"IVAN!" Alfred snarled, his lips curling. It was amazing the way the American could transform at the drop of a hat.

"It's nice to see you again, comrade," Ivan said, a devilish smile playing across his face. "It's been so long since we last played together. How's you leg healing?"

Bell-like laughter followed the Russian's statement, letting the group know that, per usual, Ivan wasn't alone. Slowly, a feminine form edged away from the ever encroaching darkness and into the dim moonlight. Pale blonde hair, tied up in a cute black bow and an icy expression greeted the group, piercing eyes scanning them over.

"They don't look like much, Brother," The woman said, staring at Ivan intensely.

"That's because they aren't, Natalya."

Francis watched anxiously, as Alfred tensed in anger. Beside him, Gilbert's body was turned towards the two Soviets, his hands whiter than before. Even Antonio had dropped his goofy persona, and was instead scanning the area, looking to see any other hidden ambushers. "Watch your side, Franny. There's two more hidden in the forest."

"Let 'em come," Gilbert whispered, his eyes wide and gleaming. "We're awesome enough to be beat the ever living shit out of them."

"_Да_?" Ivan asked, tilting his head as innocently as he could. After taking in Gilbert's form, which by this point was almost shaking in anticipation and fury, the Russian nodded towards the woman - Natalya.

At the movement, the blonde twitched and snapped her fingers. Almost immediately, a brunet emerged nervously from the forest, dragging a disgruntled blonde, one who had a much more normal colour, with him. One look at the Soviet woman had the brunet reach for his sword.

The blonde however, was just checking the dirt underneath his nails. That was, until he got a look at the group that Ivan had planned to ambush.

"Like, ohmygod, why didn't anyone tell me were going after these losers?" The blonde rambled, looking at Ivan. "Seriously? I would've so totally stopped being so pissy if I knew you wanted to mess up that French pervert and German barbarian."

Francis rolled his eyes, and placed a hand on Gilbert's back, willing his friend to calm down. "He's Prussian, not German."

"Like, no diff."

"Okay, I've had enough of this _scheiße _," Gilbert yelled, breaking away from Francis and charging purposely after the blonde. The Prussian bad-ass moved swiftly, falling back on his years of sword training, and drew his sword from it's scabbard moments before reaching the effeminate blonde. It was clear that Gilbert was after blood.

The other man narrowly missed the first stab, eeping in distress and dodging the second swipe. Quickly, the blonde moved behind the his brunet friend. "Liet, like, do something!"

"What do you want me to do Feliks?" The brunet - Liet - asked wearily.

"Like, defend my honor or something!"

The brunet parried Gilbert's next attack, and pushed the albino away. A quick glance towards Ivan and Natalya, who were making their way over to the group, quickened his resolve, and he started to fight back against the albino.

The three remaining (as Alfred would call them) heroes shifted into a battle ready stance. Francis, as the unofficial team leader, nodded for Antonio to move towards their albino friend. Antonio and Gilbert were two of the best fighters in all of England, it would only be fair for them to be paired together.

Looking at the approaching Soviet figures, Francis glanced at his American companion. Alfred was practically his little brother, and despite the fact that the rambunctious blonde was an able swordsman, the Parisian still didn't want to put him in harms way.

But, it seemed like Alfred had a different idea. "I've got Braginski, you take his sister."

"Alfred-"

"Trust me on this one, Francis. I'll be fine, I'm a hero, and we never get hurt. Why don't you just worry about yourself? Don't want everybody thinking that a little girl can kick you ass, right?" Alfred joked, winking at his friend before rushing off towards the incoming Russian threat.

Francis shook his head fondly, before leaping towards the ground as a throwing knife came rushing towards him. Yeah, he wouldn't care so much if people learned that a little girl with _freaking sharp projectiles_ beat him. Christ, she was even related to the crazy Braginski. No one could blame him.

Rolling over, Francis sprang to his feet as a new round of knives were thrown his way. Soon enough, the silhouette of the Soviet female was easy to make out. Raising his sword, Francis easily deflected the next item thrown his way, and ran towards Natalya so that the two of them were now face to face.

"_Mon amour_, we shouldn't fight. I'd hate to mar such a lovely face," Francis said, dodging what seemed like an endless supply of daggers.

Natalya glared at him, and the utter force behind was almost enough to make Francis break his concentration. The moment of weakness was enough for the woman though, and almost immediately, the Frenchman was getting a face full of iron. Luckily, he dodged in time so just the blade grazed against his cheek.

Backing up, Francis almost missed the smirk that played briefly across the other blonde's lips. "Didn't you ever hear that woman are better suited for battle, _перакрут_?"

Then, Natalya lunged towards him, thrusting and deflecting with as much grace as any professional that Francis had ever met. The whole thing only served to make the exotic women so much sexier in Francis' opinion. And Francis was the expert opinion on matters such as that.

The minutes however, began to wear on the female blonde's stamina and, eventually, she started making small mistakes, like twisting her dagger at an off angle, or not always readying for an attack. Natalya still attacked ferociously, but it didn't matter, it was enough for the Frenchman to take advantage of.

Sliding down, Francis kicked out Natalya's legs and wrestled her to the ground, knocking the dagger out of her hand. The blonde woman kicked and clawed, but the Frenchman used his weight to his advantage, and pinned her, placing his sword right near her jugular. Instantly, the Soviet stilled and glared at the Parisian.

"It seems, _ma douce_, that you're sorely-" Francis' gloat was cut short as two pain-filled yells broke through the quiet of the night. Turning around, both Natalya and Francis let out shocked gasps.

"_Ivan_!"

"_Alfred_!"

* * *

"Liet, now there's, like, two of them!" The feminine blonde shouted, drawing his sword and standing back to back with his friend - Liet. Antonio and Gilbert looked at each other, before advancing further. It was almost too easy.

Liet merely rolled his eyes at them though, before shaking his head. "I guess that just means we're going to have to fight back Feliks, _gerai_?"

Antonio and Gilbert watched as Feliks tightened his grip on his sword and nodded. "_Porządku_."

Before the two could do anything, two wails pierced the air. Soon after, two panicked yells followed. Antonio and Gilbert didn't waste a moment and moved in tandem towards Alfred, ignoring the men that the were supposedly fighting. Once they were gone, Feliks turned to his friend.

"Well, that was, like, pretty anticlimactic, nyeh Liet?" The blonde's remark was combined with a playful hair ruffle.

Liet shook it off before turning back to his friend, a half smile playing at his lips. "Yeah, but we'd better be heading over there too. Natalya might need our help."

"You go. I, like, can't deal with Miss Frigid."

Liet rolled his eyes, before sprinting over to where the other men were gathering, leaving Feliks alone. Either he was eager to help the little Arlovskaya, or he wanted to see whatever trouble Ivan had gotten into now.

But, Feliks would probably put money on the former.

* * *

"You're in for a _world_ of hurt, Ivan," Alfred growled, dodging and swooping around Ivan's imposing figure. It wasn't just his reputation that scared people; the Russian also had his tall and muscular body to help him out.

Plus it didn't hurt that Ivan was also crazy.

The Russian man just tilted his head at the American, smiling widely as he blocked a cross-strike. "I hope I can destroy you, comrade. It's always so much fun to destroy precious lives."

Gritting his teeth, Alfred lunged at the Soviet again, his sword swinging with even more intensity than before. Perhaps it was the will to live. Or, perhaps it was the complete and utter loathing that was running through Alfred's veins.

Most people didn't know, but Ivan and Alfred had a history. A long time ago, the two of them were neighbors growing up, only, even then they weren't on the nicest terms. The Russian had terrorized his little brother, Mathew, every single day; threatening, verbally abusing, and even breaking his arm once.

And every time, Alfred would come to his little bro's rescue, believing that Mattie needed a hero more than anything else in the world. Ivan hated him, hated that there was someone who would stand up to him, and soon, both boys were seen almost constantly covered in bruises, dirt, and caked-on blood. The arrangement continued until Francis and his family adopted both Mattie and him, taking them far, far away from that stupid, Russian asshole.

But, even to this day, Alfred still held a grudge. To this day, he still saw Ivan as an unfeeling and horrible bastard who deserved to be killed.

Ivan narrowed his eyes, before blocking another one of Alfred's stabs. The stubborn American had already drawn blood, a slice on his arm proved that, but he had matched as well, with a thrust on Alfred's left thigh that was now oozing. The sight was almost enough to make Ivan grin, he loved marking up the American, he was the only one who was able to really fight back. The only one besides...

The Soviet's thoughts were cut short as Alfred's blade slashed through his chest, making his blood spray on the scarf his older sister had knit him. That in itself was enough to make the Russian see red.

Alfred cried out as Ivan sent a vengeful blow through across his arm, opening up one of the largest gashes that Alfred had ever seen. The blood started to gush out, and in rage, Alfred tackled Ivan to the ground, already feeling woozy from the blood loss.

Before he blacked out, he heard his friend call out his name, but then...

Nothing.

* * *

The former enemies met at the battered bodies. It was almost like the battle hadn't happened, each side rushing to their fallen friend, or in some cases, brother. Natalya rushed past all of them, and turned her brother over with such force, Francis wondered fleetingly why she hadn't used it earlier when fighting him.

"Brother," She whispered creepily, smoothing out the Russian's hair. "Brother you have to wake up, you promised me. You promised me that you'd marry me. You can't die, you need to marry me, marry me, marry me, marry me..."

Gilbert and Antonio edged away from the woman, and quickly started ripping their clothing, trying to find anything to clog the bleeding wound on Al's arm. Offering it to Francis, the three friends waited with baited breath to see if Alfred would wake up. While they waited, the brunet from earlier showed up behind Natalya, bringing her attention back to her brother's wound.

"Toris!" She yelled sharply, her tone icy and irritated, not an ounce of worry present. "Wrap your jacket around my brother and grab him. We need to leave now, Eduard will have to bandage him up later."

Obediently, the man - Toris - grabbed Ivan and hoisted him over his shoulders, showing the strength that was hidden behind his sheepish appearance. Without a word, he nodded to them, concern briefly flitting across his face, and took off into the woods. Natalya glared at them before turning around as well.

Leaping into the trees, her voice carried over the wind. "This isn't over. We still have unfinished business you, and we'll be back to finish it."

Both the Spaniard and Prussian looked on unimpressed, but the worry for their American friend took precedent. Turning to Francis almost instinctively, Antonio winced when he saw the look of sheer pain in Francis' eyes. Their friend hadn't look like that in... Antonio couldn't think of a time when the Frenchman looked that distressed.

"Franny, we need to get him out now," Gilbert said finally, his voice oddly soft. "We need to get him back to Tino's, or he'll bleed out. C'mon, do you remember how we got here, or which way we came or-"

"Oi!" The three turned as the heard the familiar mumble fill the air. Berwald's shadow crept in between Alfred and Francis, and the tall man was shifting from foot to foot uneasily. Eventually, he squatted and held out his arms.

Getting the picture, Francis and Antonio hurriedly, but gently, scooped Alfred into Berwald's waiting arms, careful to make sure that his wound wasn't aggravated more. It was clear that those two were the most worried, especially since there wasn't anyone they really knew that practiced medicine and could fix Alfred up. Either they voiced their concerns aloud, or Berwald just understood, because he placed a hand on Francis' shoulder.

"D'n't w'rry, I was in t'e a'my. I c'n dr'ss h's w'und," Berwald whispered, readjusting Alfred's head. "F'll'w me."

Francis and Antonio followed without another word, carefully memorizing the way back to Berwald's house and thanking their lucky stars that Berwald showed up. The two were so preoccupied, that they didn't notice when Gilbert didn't follow, and instead choose to stay behind, a hand still on his sword.

"You can come out now." Gilbert said, plainly.

Slowly, a figure, a familiar one, came out, their hands raised in submission. "Like, you're really good. How'd you know I was there?"

"Besides the fact that you smell like mediocrity, and it's totally unawesome?"

Feliks rolled his eyes and groaned, before his resolve solidified, and he looked Gilbert in the eyes, a steely look on his face. "Look, I know you don't, like, trust me, but I think you should, like, know that Ivan really has it out for you, all of you. But, like, especially Jones. He's not going to give up, like, that easily, and you need to watch you back at, like, all times. This won't slow him down."

Gilbert sighed, grasping his sword even tighter before letting it go. He'd been afraid that this might happen. "Why are you helping us? Not that it's not awesome or anything, but I just tried to kill you. And we've never gotten along before. I'm pretty sure that puts a damper on the friendly helping bullshit."

"I might hate you," Feliks began, smiling blithely. The effeminate blonde moved back into the forest before speaking again. "But I hate Ivan even more. I hope your friend, like, makes a full recovery, Gil."

"...Thanks Fel."

* * *

Anna woke up, feeling more at ease than she had since being abducted by that German swine. She made a new friend that she could actually stand for more than five minutes, and had a good night drinking. At this point, hangovers no longer screwed her over, since they were so common it didn't make sense to get hung up on them.

So, as Anna woke up, she was more or less surprised by the feeling of a body surrounding her. Bolting up, she saw the outline of a young woman, around her age, with long brown hair. From behind, Anna heard the faeries laughing at her, and when she turned towards them, she noted the pair of glasses on the side table.

Turning towards the new...screw it, the intruder, Anna cocked an eyebrow. "And just who the bloody hell are you?"

The brunette stirred, and from where Anna sat, she could see the drowsiness in her eyes. Soon, the woman put her glasses on, and slowly took in her surroundings. Faintly, Anna wondered if that's what she looked like when she first arrived.

After a little bit of time, Anna cleared her throat, drawing the woman's attention back to her. "As I said, just who are you?"

"I could ask you the same question," The brunette said, her voice tight and prim, "But I think the better question is where is this? And who was the idiot that abducted me"

Anna chuckled a little bit, before extending her hand. Whoever this woman was, Anna was sure they were going to get along fine.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so I want to say that I was working on this chapter for a long time, but I'd be lying. Yeah for Spring Break :DDD Anyone else think that Feliks and Gilbert would have the best, yet completely dysfunctional relationship? And does everyone know who the new genderbent character is? Is it weird to put that at the end of a somewhat serious chapter? Whatever :DDDDD

Oh, for those of you that wanted a full rundown of what pairings I was planning, here we go:

FrancexFem!England, Spamano, PrussiaxFem!Austria, USUK, GerIta, SuFin, Onesided HungaryxFem!Austria, RoChu (haven't decided if I'm gonna gendbend China or not...), LietPol, Onesided RusBel, CanUkraine, Onesided LietBel, SKoreaJap, USBel

Hope these don't alienate too many people...

_Translations:_

_gerai = okay_

_Porządku = Alright_

_перакрут_ = _Pervert_

___ma douce_ = my sweet  


___Je dois continuer_ = I need to continue

___да_ = yes

I hope you enjoyed reading, and if you didn't, or you're angry about how long it took me to update, please leave a review.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia. If I did, Austria would have the power to summon Germany at will. Of course, he'd only do that to insist that he make Prussia leave him alone, but...

Come to think of it, wouldn't Germany just ignore him?

* * *

"The name is Anna Elizabeth Kirkland, it's a pleasure to make your, rather sudden, acquaintance," Anna smiled, shaking the groggy woman's hand vigorously. "I have the feeling we're going to get along quite well Miss...?

The brunette tilted her head, making her class fall onto her head, and blinked. If Anna had been anyone besides her antisocial self, she would have squealed at how cute the other woman was. Cloudy, purple eyes enhanced the look, making the other woman look adorable.

Clearing her throat, Anna released the other's hand and waited for the bespectacled woman to introduce herself.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited some more. Finally, Anna examined the other closely and almost cried out in exasperation at what she saw.

Those same purple eyes had closed, and a light snoring sound radiated from the petite body.

She had fallen asleep.

Somehow, Anna couldn't blame her, but at the same time, she found it ridiculous that someone could fall asleep after being kidnapped. In fact, the Briton had been so nervous last night, that she was glad Lovino "found" some liquor. The drink had a kind of calming effect on her, making it easy for her to sleep and forget some of the danger she was in. Plus, it helped that she normally fell asleep with the help of her liquid ally.

Hopefully, that didn't sound as pathetic as she thought it did.

But, when the sunlight reflected off the woman's glasses and her hair sprayed across the pillow, cradling her face like a shadow, Anna thought the lady looked almost... unearthly. Almost as if she wasn't human. If the English woman didn't know any better, she would have sworn that the fae were conspiring against her, lending their magic to another.

But, of course, she did know better. She knew that her faeries weren't easy to befriend; very few people successfully did. The only reason she had accomplished it was because her parents taught her how to talk to the beasts before their deaths.

Anna blinked. She couldn't think to hard in the mornings, that never turned out well for her. Standing up, Anna exhaled and counted to ten. Then, she grabbed the blanket and pulled hard, sending both it, and the brunette woman, to the floor.

_"Die Hölle__?_" The woman called groggily, lifting her head up slowly. Anna winced when she saw the cracks in the other's glasses. Whoever the other woman was, there was no way she'd be pleased by that.

Looking past the glasses, Anna stiffened when she recognized the language.

"Oi, so you're one of the cursed Krauts, eh?" The English woman hissed, her tone coated with barely contained malice. Any sympathy she once held for the other woman left her body immediately; she was probably sent up here as a trick! She wouldn't put anything past the slimy bloke who locked her in this tower.

The brunette seemed alarmed, and then disgusted. When Anna looked closer, she saw that the woman had a mole on her face, below her lips.

Under different circumstances, she would have found it endearing. Now, all she felt was contempt.

The bespectacled woman turned her nose, glaring at Anna. "Hmm, it is quite an English thing to insult others, _nein_?" The woman sneered, taking off her broken glasses. "I am not German, I am Austrian. There is a difference, a rather important one."

"Excuse me, do I look like I give a damn? I'd hate to give off the wrong impression, especially to the likes of you," the blonde jeered, moving to the other side of the room and leaving the brunette on the ground.

Standing up, the Austrian pulled a new pair of glasses from the the inside of her bodice. Anna narrowed her eyes even more. Only someone of wealth could afford _spare _glasses in the trying times that the kingdom had recently been facing. The mystery surrounding the woman grew!

A long silence fell between the two stubborn women, neither willing to be the first to break it. Anna had to give it to...to... Dammit. "What's your name?"

"Excuse me?" The other asked, her eyes narrowing.

Anna rolled her eyes. "Your name? It's awkward addressing someone without knowing who they are."

The brunette raised an eyebrow and smirked. Inwardly, Anna seethed. Was there no limit to the arrogance that the other woman possessed? "Oh? And who are you to ask for my name?"

"I've introduced myself already. I'd like to save myself of such humdrum," the blonde replied loftily, not missing a beat. It had been awhile since she'd had a good verbal battle; Tino and Berwald were usually too busy to humor her.

"Repetition sharpens the mind," the other quipped, a small smile on her face, "everyone should indulge themselves once in awhile."

"Overindulgence breeds carelessness," Anna stated, humorlessly. "In a place such as this, I feel that we'll need to keep a clear head."

The brunette scanned the room, walking over to the window and noting how high the tower truly was. Soon enough, the woman slumped. "I fear you are right. Do you happen to know where we are? Or why we're here?"

"Hmmmm," Anna said, tapping a finger on her lips. "I was actually hoping you would have some idea about that. I've been here a day longer than you, and the only thing I've been able to gather is that I was captured by a large, threatening German man."

"Which explains why you are so wary of me," the Austrian said, pushing her glasses up.

"I'd think it only logical."

"Oh, it would be completely understandable if I knew of any German men. But that is not the case, I am as clueless as you are." The last part was spoken bitterly, the other obviously hating her uselessness.

Anna nodded. She could relate to feeling worthless; hell, she felt like that now. "Perhaps, under these circumstances, we should call a truce."

The two woman looked at each other, silently assessing whether they could, even fleetingly, trust the other. It was if the two woman had the same thoughts running through each of their head, neither wanting to bare the burden of another, neither wantingto rely on another. There was no way of knowing the dangers surrounding them; even the slightest mistake could be fatal.

Anna couldn't afford to tolerate mistakes. She didn't know about the other, but there were things that she needed to do, people she needed to look after. Anna couldn't, wouldn't, leave Peter alone.

Through the glasses, Anna could sense that the other felt the same way. There were people she needed to protect as well.

Both women extended their hands slowly, nodding before grasping the other firmly and shaking. Smiling keenly, Anna withdrew her hand, noting the other woman's tight smile. "I don't believe I ever caught your name."

The brunette hesitated. "...Renate Edelstein. It is a pleasure _Frau_...?"

"Kirkland, Anna Kirkland. And trust me, Renate, the pleasure is all mine."

* * *

For the next few hours, both women tried to learn as much as they could about the other, hoping to find something that linked the two of them, something that would answer why they had both been kidnapped. However, nothing seemed to add up. Renate was polite, where Anna was blunt. Anna was a horrible cook and loved to drink, when Renate could bake and abstained from drinking.

Hell, even their hair colors were completely different from one another.

A mutual love of books and tea is the only thing that they could find that connected both of them, and both women doubted that either a beverage or musty (yet wonderful) books were the cause of their capture.

Sighing, the blonde woman twirled her hair. This whole experience was extremely peculiar for her, while she wouldn't call herself a sociable person, she couldn't think of anyone who loathed her to the degree of taking her hostage. There are only a few people, er, creatures that Anna would suspect of doing that.

"I wish this was just a trick that the fae are playing on me," Anna confessed, her voice low. "But, that doesn't sound like a possibility since you're here."

"The...fae?" Renate asked slowly. The Austrian was sitting on the bed, watching her English counterpart pace back and forth. Both despised the fact that they were cooped up; they felt like convicts sent to prison.

Anna sighed, rubbing her temples and wishing that she'd kept some of Lovino's wine. "Yes, the fae. Mythical, magical beings. Don't you dare mock me, I've been able to see them for as long as I can remember. They look somewhat like little pixies, multi-coloured**—**"

"**—**and with little butterfly wings!" Renate finished, smiling widely. The Austrian was now standing up, her eyes wide and her face lit with excitement.

Confused, Anna gaped at her roommate. She had never met anyone outside of her family (except for Lukas, but the Norwegian was _like _family) who could see the little buggers... The blonde was almost convinced that her family had been cursed.

"Renate, do you think**—**"

"**—**that the reason we were kidnapped**—**"

"**—**was because we**—**"

"**—**can see**—**"

"**—**and talk to**—**"

"The faeries!" The finished together, excited by the prospect of understanding why they were here. The two woman were face to face now, Anna gripping Renate's shoulders.

A million thoughts flew through the blonde's head. How was Renate able to see the faeries? How long had she been able to do this? Was her ability common knowledge? If so, was that the reason why they were captured? What did Ludwig want with the fae? How did he plan to use both her and the brunette?

However, the most important question was how the bloody hell they were going to get out of this mess.

Turning towards her accomplice, Anna was surprised to see her bewildered expression mirrored on Renate's face. It appeared that they were each as skeptical as the other. Exhaling, the Briton sat down on the bed, her roommate following soon.

Anna knew it was childish, but she wanted nothing than a stiff drink. Just two days ago, her life had been normal. Holding a pillow over her face, the frustrated blonde let out a small wail.

"Excuse me," Renate began, "but what are you doing?"

Scowling, Anna flung the pillow away. "I'm trying to let off some steam. This whole thing is pissing me off. If they're going to hurt the fae..."

The Austrian hummed in agreement. "The first thing we should do is determine how to escape."

"Yeah," Anna said, sitting up and fixing her hair, "although I'd like to know how you know about magic. Or, how much you know."

Renate looked down at her hands, avoiding the English woman's eyes. "Earlier, you said you wished for the "fae" were playing a trick on you. Do they do that often?"

"Sometimes. They're a bunch of smarmy bastards." Anna said flippantly, twirling her hair. "Don't they prank you?"

"Prank?" Renate echoed. "They tease me, of course, but I have always assumed that it was how they showed their love and concern. The _zauberwesen_ have always been my muses..." At Anna's confused look, Renate broke off, smiling. "For my music. I compose for, and play, the piano; the magic inspires me."

"I can understand that," Anna said, closing her eyes. "I'm an author, I write stories under a nom de plume. I can safely say that the faeries have motivated me to write more than one tale. However, I'm curious. You said always, just how long have you been able to see the fae?"

The Austrian chuckled awkwardly. "For as long as I can remember. I was an only child born into an aristocratic family; the _Fabelwesen_ played with me, kept me from being lonely. In thanks, I play my music for them."

Anna chuckled bitterly, nodding her head. It was almost the same for her; to escape the brutes she called her brothers, the blonde often went out with her fairy friends as a child. Now, she wrote stories about their exploits and read them aloud to her friends.

After all, the fae had always loved to be loved.

"In my opinion," Renate began, standing up, "this is enough chit-chat for right now. What we need is an escape plan. I do not plan on standing idly by and letting anyone use my friends."

"Of course," Anna said, standing. "That's our jobs, yes? Any ideas, or am I going to be the mastermind of the whole charade?"

"Please," Renate said smugly, "try and keep up."

Smirking, both women knew that everything was just about to get much more difficult. However, Anna couldn't bring herself to care. She was fighting to defend herself and her friends, nothing was going to stop her.

Within a few hours, Anna was sure that both Renate and herself would be free of this tower.

* * *

**A/N:**Okay, so sort of a short filler/sorta-kinda-plotty chapter here. Coolio~

I know it's been a long time since I last updated, and I'm hoping y'all don't mind too much. The good news is that I've got the rest of the story all planned out, so hopefully there will be another chapter out soon. :D

Now, revising, I realize that I didn't write fem!Austria saying any contractions. Somehow, this makes me think of Rock Lee from Naruto. The Power Of Youth compels me.

Translation: (They're still based on the internet translators so... feel free to correct 'em)

_Die Hölle **— **The Hell?_

_zauberwesen__ **— **Magic Creatures_

_Fabelwesen ____**—** Mythical Creatures _

Thanks for reading, and please leave a review xD

Till later, Space-cadets~


End file.
